Time Flows

Yellow lights blink red. Life comes to a standstill at familiar cross roads. The soft hum of the engine and some song playing on the stereo unhinge thoughts from where they were at rest. A soldier martyred, a nation in trauma and a world waiting for the Republicans to sneeze. You have a new profile pic, its beautiful. There is much work ahead, it will be a long day.

Nothing makes sense. I am a seeker. The lights turn green. I drive my thoughts.

Formless

There was once a time when what I was was not contained in time. When I knew you and my knowledge of you was not bound by a frame of reference. You were not outside of me and I did not have an existence outside of you.

Coiled into each other like serpents intertwined, we lay for ages motionless in each other arms. In losing you I have lost that wonderful silence in my life.

More@ Life in a Multiverse

More Time Please

When I was younger, the wheels of time used to spin slower. The whirring was not as clear and as urgent as when I crossed my 30s. Now nearing the 40s, the spin seems crazy and loud. I am worried that I might gobble up time at a faster rate than I can digest. I liked it slower. There is so much that remains undone!

Like a Kite tightly held captive to the ground I have been flying but have always had a constrained flight. I am yet to break free. Yet to be blown by winds of destiny. I need time for that strong draft of wind to blow my way, blow me away.

Tunneling Through Time

It seems like life is a stretch of golden sand and I crawl beneath the dunes of time. I know that someday winds of change will blow, some day the dust in my eyes will be cleansed by snow. Until such day I walk my life with a pocket-full of dreams.

When it is time, I would hear you speak, and I would know. From this slumber, new life begins.

Remembering Karl Marx

The Paradise Hotel crossroads is a busy traffic junction. On my way home, I wait for the lights to turn green thrice before I can cross the signals. It is not as bad as Bangalore, all it takes is around 15 minutes. Friday evening was one such evening and I was busy staring at bums of other cars. There was a little space between my car and another small car and a cyclist was busy trying to wedge through. His cycle scraped the mud flaps of the small car. An old man of around 74 came out of the car, shaking out of anger, clearly out of control. He held the poor cyclist by the collar, shook him a couple times and let out a string of choicest abuses!

The cyclist clearly was a white card holder (below poverty line) and the old gentleman was from the urban elite. Once the tirade was over, the cyclist shrugged off with a stoic face. The old man, happy to have got an opportunity to abuse in public, also went into the air-conditioned comfort of his car.

When two worlds collide, wonder what impressions are retained of each other.